


lend me your faith

by harscrow, wctomyhead



Series: Death Smiles At Us All [3]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, M/M, Organized Crime, Prostitution, hints of Sasha Banks/Becky Lynch, mob boss!Roman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8798881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harscrow/pseuds/harscrow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wctomyhead/pseuds/wctomyhead
Summary: /// Roman and Dean's bond is put to the test in the aftermath of the car shooting they survived a few weeks ago.As they find pleasure in each other's arms, wolves start gathering at their door... ///_______________________________________________________________________________Roman walks into the club sharp-dressed as usual, tailored suit and Italian shoes. He chose an amaranth shade for his tie, the one his mom always tells him he looks so good with. He can't actually believe he's acting like he hopes to impress a special someone, because he doesn't really need to impress anyone and Dean certainly isn't a silly teen crush. Still, he appears to be the reason why Roman is now smiling, even in such pivotal times. [...] he can't stay away from such a sweet, addictive distraction. He doesn't recognize himself.





	1. part I

A phone call from an unknown number startles the defense attorney in the middle of the night, waking him abruptly from a well-deserved sleep. "Better be fucking important." He grumbles as he reaches for his phone to answer.

"I would say so." The male voice on the other side speaks, a calm tone that hides danger behind it.

Glancing at the digital clock on his nightstand, the lawyer groans as he sees the unacceptable hour. "Who's this?" It's 2 am, who dares bother him at this time of the night?

"Mr Owens, I would like to arrange a meeting with your client."

Kevin is too tired to deal with this right now, and doesn't have any intention of exposing Roman's name to that nonsense anyway. "I have many clients, how about you make an appointment with my assistant and don't fucking call me late at night. Unbelievable."

The laughs coming from the other side is cocky, yet quiet. "There's only one client you defend these days and he has something I want. Tell him I want to make peace, forget old blood and dead fathers for the favor of partnership."

Kevin stills, the cogs in his mind running wildly as he suddenly recognizes the voice that speaks calmly. There's a billion things he could say, but he's still drowsy and bewildered by the unpleasant surprise, so he settles for what his instinct suggests. "I might be the best but I'm not a miracle worker, he won't agree to a meeting with you."

"I'm sure you can convince him, Mr. Owens. You are a fantastic defense lawyer after all, I'm certain you have way with words." The deep voice chuckles, making all those compliments sound fake even if they probably aren't.

"I won't try that hard, just so you know." Kevin says firmly, motivated not to give that bastard any kind of leverage.

"I'm sure of it. Tell him that it could benefit all of us, all he has to do is give me an hour. Have a good night, Kevin." He rounds his proposal off, hanging up on the other man sooner than he can shoot back.

The body next to Kevin stirs lazily, hand traveling across his stomach. "Kev, who was it?"

Kevin finds himself unable to smother the affectionate smile curving his lips, because even dead tired his husband still sounds like an angel. "Probably trouble, baby. You going to Roman tomorrow? Or today, I guess." He asks, already feeling the usual headache that being Roman Reigns' defense lawyer and consigliere comes with.

Sami nods, pulling himself closer to Kevin and resting his head on his shoulder. Any preoccupation for what's about to happen can wait.

"Then I'm coming with you." The man kisses Sami's short hair softly.

"Okay."

Kevin groans as he feels soft kisses on his neck. "Dammit, Sami."

"Hm-hm? What?" He whispers, his lips seemingly adamant about fondling his husband's collarbone. "You're awake anyway."

****

Roman's arm sling lays on the ground, removed in a rush of pride that convinced him to take the damn thing out of the way. He needs both his hands free to caress Dean's strong thighs straddling him. Those sculpted legs don't tremble in the slightest as Dean slides down on Roman's cock, taking him in slowly. He bites back a groan, hands on Roman's chest for leverage as he savours every inch filling him up.

"Fuck." Roman curses, his breath chasing Dean's as both their mouths get filled by a gasp.

Dean's words ignite against Roman's jawline, unfurling lazily into a moan. "You feel so good, Big Dog."

Warm, needy hands greet the compliment by enclosing his waist, and Dean instinctively rolls his hips to adjust until he's fully seated on that perfect cock. He can feel Roman's eyes over his figure, his heart thumping into that magnificent chest Dean's palming. Keen on satiating his craving for closeness, Dean assaults Roman's lips.

Want has been injecting itself into both of them, as the moment that should have happened a few weeks ago got delayed by a cruel twist of fate which resulted in a car shooting. All the tension that has been building between them since they met at the Rabbit Hole eagerly yelled to be appeased, and Roman's still healing shoulder lead to the silent agreement of an encounter way quieter than originally planned.

Dean doesn't honestly remember the last time he wanted to lapse into someone's touch so deeply. Roman reciprocates the starvation in their kiss, even though his senses are captured by the warm and tight body surrounding his cock, making it even more frustrating that Dean isn't moving at all.

As Roman toughens up his hold on Dean's waist to work his hips himself, the man above him breaks their kiss, both of them breathing heavily and forehead touching.

Dean chuckles as he catches desperation in Roman's eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Move." Roman growls, his will to flip Dean and leave him shaking for days only restrained by his bad shoulder.

"Yes, sir." Dean smirks, his tongue sticking out the way he knows eats away at the other man's self control.

What he gets from the other side, though, is not what he expected.

Roman's jaw clenches, his handsome features slightly stiffening. "Don't call me that. You're not selling yourself in my bed."

Dean chuckles as an attempt to conceal how confused that leaves him. "What do you want me to call you then? Ro?"

The man nods, pulling him closer to relish without hesitation that impure thrill nestling into Dean's mouth. While Roman generously lavishes attentions on the other man's lips, giving a nip here and a slow, adoring lick there, Dean reaches to touch the side of Roman's neck with one arm, as he finally starts to rock his hips and the most lascivious of quivers shakes them both. He heaves himself, cautiously at first, just to lower again and again. It's easy to forget the one writhing under his hands is a powerful crime lord, the ruler of an empire. As he starts fucking himself, swiveling and bouncing on the man's cock, he can feel nobody else but Roman.  _Roman, Roman, Roman_.

Dean bites his lips to hold back the moans that are begging to be heard, kissing and sinking his teeth into Roman's neck to smother them.

"Lemme hear you, babe." Is the other man's hot whisper caressing his ear.

Dean gasps, shuddering as he buries his face into Roman's loose hair. "Shit." He curses, the relief in the moans he can finally set free matching the spiral of scorching need clawing inside of him. He pants into that beautiful black mane, breathing Roman's scent in as the finest of poisons. He wouldn't mind dying like that, intoxicated by his heat, sighing and sobbing how good it feels.

Dean raises his head and looks straight into Roman's eyes. "Fuck me, Ro." His moan leaks desperation, his hips rocking faster with excruciating urgency.

Forsaking any restriction his doc may have suggested, Roman yields to his primal impulse and starts thrusting into him, hands gripping Dean's hips so hard he can already picture the bruises that are gonna bloom there later. As he watches Dean's mouth open abruptly in surprise, Roman smiles roguishly, triumph in his voice. "What? Didn't think I had it in me?"

Dean's broad grin speaks before he does. "Not complaining." He whines, enjoying every minute of that god of a man pushing himself inside him with less and less patience.

Roman ignores the soreness in his shoulder. The stitches could rip, the wound could reopen in a mess of blood and he wouldn't care in the slightest. Why would he? How could anything else matter when he can feel that eager, perfect ass squeeze his cock glistening with lube, and Dean just keeps taking it, so good, so proud, his moans lashing the air they breathe.

As soon as Roman's hand wraps Dean's length in reward, the man arches his back, fingers tangling into the other's black hair and pulling. Dean chokes his own gasp in a kiss, as his other hand leans against the wall to not crumble under the violent swelling of his pleasure.

"Fucking beautiful." The remark leaves Roman's mouth in a wheeze, watching how avidly Dean delves deep into the maze of his pleasure, as he could take more, so much more. And Roman's being gnawed at by impatience, a sensation rapidly blending in with the frenzy of his orgasm. He feels the rising tension snapping in a blow that makes him choke in raptures, as he strives to push himself into Dean again and again, sloppy and growling.

"Yes, come inside me. Fuck." Dean grins smugly from above the man coming because of him, his own wicked little laughter morphing into a sharp intake of breath as his muscles twitch and burn, and he spills over Roman's pecs.

Dean collapses on top of him, breathless, melting against that wonderful, warm chest. As the man winces in pain, Dean draws back immediately. "Shit! You hurt?"

Roman shakes his head, in a miserable attempt of a lie.

"Lying won't help you." Dean gives him a peck on the lips, holding back a groan as he gets up and lays on the bed next to him.

"How about you? You good?"

"Let's just say that I can't wait for your shoulder to get better."

Roman can't help but chuckle, his mind already showing him flashing scenarios of all the many ways he's going to have him. "You see that dresser over there? I'm gonna fuck your brains out against it. And the window? There too."

Dean instinctively bites his lips. "Yeah? You promise, Big Dog?"

"I do."

Dean pulls himself closer, basking in the premises, but a knock on the door makes him pause.

"Sir, your lawyer is downstairs, he says it's urgent."

Roman doesn't recall having an appointment with him, which means something has happened. Even if reluctant, he gently distances from Dean. "I'll be there in a minute!"

He leaves his bed in a rush, goes to the bathroom to toss the condom away and freshen up quickly, then goes back to put a robe on under Dean's questioning look.

"I'm sorry, I have to go." Roman says, certainly not happy about it. He picks up the sling from the floor and leans over Dean to kiss him one more time.

"Yeah. Sure." Deans nods, despite feeling disoriented. He keeps Roman there, hanging from his lips a little bit longer than he probably should, just because he can. "Go, Big Dog. We're gonna have a second round soon enough."

The knot in Roman's throat caused by the sudden visit goes lax, and his forehead sweetly touches Dean's for a moment. He shakes his head, willing to say something, but time urges and all his thoughts are stirring together anxiously. Saying no more, he leaves Dean to his rest.

Downstairs, the boss sees Kevin and Sami talking to each other, his lawyer quickly sighting him and looking very displeased. "What the hell took you so long? I've been waiting for twenty minutes."

"Good morning, sir." Sami smiles, polite as ever.

"The hell happened, Kev?" It's Roman's retort.

"Hell. Precisely that."

"Kev didn't get enough sleep."

"You were half the problem, baby. No, seriously. We need to talk in your office."

Kevin notices a man going downstairs while putting on his jacket, a sight that makes him cast a judging glance at his boss. "Really? This is why I waited twenty minutes?"

Kevin raises an eyebrow, causing Roman to turn around.

"Morning, Dean." Sami says.

"What can I say, I'm distracting." Dean smirks. "Morning, Sami. Any chance I'll grab coffee and you can drive me back to the club? And who's the grumpy next to you?"

"His husband. And Roman's lawyer. Unbelievable. You know what? I don't have time to process this. Roman. Office. Now."

Sami pats Dean on the back. "Come with me. I'll grab a coffee as well. I'm glad to see you're doing better."

As the boss and his consigliere walk toward the office, Mrs Reigns comes out of the piano room carrying some handwritten musical scores of her own. She never stopped composing, even after she quit her job at the orchestra years before, due to her mourning aggravated by a bullet wound in her own thigh.

"Mom. You been writing?"

"Hey, sweetheart. Hey, Kevin! You're not coming over as much as I would like. Yes, I have." 

"I have to come here more often to actually listen to you playing, then." Is Kevin's charming reply to her kissing his cheek.

"You doing ok, mom? Did you wake up early?"

"Not more than usual. Leg's just been bothering me today. Did you wake up just now?" She says, looking at the robe her son is wearing.

"Uh, no. Dean's here."

"Oh. Really?" There's a huge grin on her face as she's about to inquire further.

"Don't, mom."

"I was right, just remember that." She says, cheerfully triumphant.

Roman rolls his eyes and nods at Kevin. "Let's go. Mom, we have pressing matters to discuss."

"Do I need to worry, Kev?"

"That is up to what Roman decides, Lisa."

The office gets opened for the first time that day. A faint, pleasant smell of wood always lingers in that room, covered as it is in mahogany. The hand-woven, embellished carpet on the floor deadens their steps as Roman sits down on his leather armchair and Kevin takes his place in front of him.

"You talked about hell. Care to explain what did you mean?"

"Got a phone call last night. It was Helmsley. Called me at fucking 2 am to say he wants a meeting with you. I highly advise you against it."

Roman expected anything but that. His stomach tenses up immediately. "What are you talking about? He wants a meeting? For what?"

"Said you have something he wants. For my health, please tell me you kept it in your fucking pants. Tell me you didn't fuck one of his mistresses or something."

"You just witnessed that I clearly haven't kept it in my pants, Kevin. Do you think he wants him?"

"I don't know if he meant a person or something, to be honest. If he did mean a person, who the fuck was the guy that made me wait for twenty minutes? Does he have any history with Helmsley?"

"Knocked him the fuck out, then proceeded to tell him to suck it. Aye, he's something. Name's Dean Ambrose."

"He did what?!" Kevin exclaimed, leaping forward. In his whole legal career he never heard of a more satisfying concatenation of facts. "As remarkable as that is, I still advice you against meeting with Helmsley. Nothing good will come out of it."

"Nothing good will come out of refusing his offer either, Kev. I have a bad feeling about this."

"I get that. You had sex with this Dean guy, you feel protective. Sure. Doesn't matter. To your mindset, Helmsley is a liability, this is personal for you beyond what happened and what he wants. I say, let him go back to whatever hole he came from."

"You're right. You're right. I shouldn't even give it a second thought."

Silence falls on them like some sort of pensive paralysis. Until the boss speaks his mind again, letting the most painful prospect he can imagine escape his mouth in a dreary tone. "What if he retaliates? I can't lose anyone else, Kev. You know how powerful he is."

"And you forget how powerful you can be."

"I've been working on my revenge for years, now. But I'm still not quite there, yet."

"And you think, what? This meeting will help your revenge? Come on, Roman."

"It might give me some insight. Fuck, Kevin."

"I know you're desperate to take him down, we've been working on it for a long time. I just don't think this is the brightest idea, meeting him."

"I'll do it at the club, public place. If he does something there, it'll give him way too much unwanted attention. He's too smart for that."

"For the record, this is against my advice."

****

"So that's your husband?" Dean casually asks as he pours sugar into his coffee, standing with Roman's driver in the empty kitchen. Last time he was there, circumstances were slightly different.

Healthy Sami, horrified by the amount of sweetener Dean puts in his damn drink, almost gets distracted. "What? Yes. His name is Kevin Owens, he's Roman's defense lawyer. Do you always put this much sugar in your coffee?"

"Gotta say brother, your husband's very angry." Dean bluntly comments, gravel voice and usual snarky smirk. "Yep, always."

"Kevin defends a mob boss, it's not a stress-free job." Sami proceeds to shrug, as to show how easy it is adjusting themselves to a life within a shark tank. "And we're all family. The need to protect each other is high, so when something goes wrong, it usually makes Kevin uneasy."

A questioning look wrinkles Dean's face. "You're just working for him, though."

Sami nods, a tiny smile curving his lips as memories start crowding at the doors of his mind. "Been doing that for years, yes. But see, this mansion and the people who have access to it... We're all family." He shakes his head, merrily shelving the sudden nostalgia for their early days in the business. "How about I'll go start the car?"

"Sure, brother." Dean nods absent-mindedly, his curious mind allowing the new information to sink in. He wonders where he'll be standing in the near future, if that family is going to embrace him as well. He files that as a silly expectation, though, since he can already see himself parting from all of that.

As Sami takes his leave, Dean remembers that he should probably say goodbye to Roman, considering they just had sex and will probably see each other again. It's actually baffling for Dean stopping and going for the polite thing to do, for once.

Stilling in front of the door to Roman's office, Dean takes a deep breath as he's about to knock, a fucking weird, warm sensation coiling in his stomach. But the voices coming from inside that room stir his curiosity before he can even consider that he shouldn't be prying into the boss' business. Listening carefully, Dean manages to understand a few words.

"-is a liability, this is personal for you beyond what happened and what he wants. I say, let him go back to whatever hole he came from." Kevin says harshly.

'Fuck.'

"You're right. You're right. I shouldn't even give it a second thought."

Roman's reply makes Dean stare at the door in shock. 'Is this what you think? That I'm a liability? So much for fucking saving your life.'

Dean can feel his heart falling somewhere between disappointment and betrayal, heavy as stone. He should've known better, Roman's too good to be fucking a whore. It's all been just fool's gold, of course, and it left his shaky hands stained. The urge to wash it all away itches so much that Dean just turns around, walking the fuck away from the office, the fuck away from that mansion, the fuck away from Roman.

Sami's waiting for him in the driveway, and Dean can't suddenly stand the unnerving contentedness in his smile.

"You ready, Dean?" The man asks, oblivious of what a hell is unrolling under the guest's skin.

"Yeah." Dean says while shutting the passenger seat's door and furiously staring outside the window. Zayn doesn't deserve the punch his right fist is eager to throw.

****

Back at the Rabbit Hole building, Dean quickly realizes that his bad mood is not going to fade away so easily. He wishes they had a gym somewhere in that place, since he would love to punch the shit out of something right about now. Hitting an actual person is also an option, if anyone volunteers.

He locks himself in the apartment above the club, eventually, ignoring any annoying attempt of a conversation from Tyler's part. After his flat mate asks him what happened for the umpteenth time, the anger takes over Dean and he ends up throwing two cups across the kitchen, almost hitting his friend.

"Jesus, Dean! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Had a bad day." He cuts off, neglecting the shards on the floor and the other man's upset face.

Moving around the room, Dean can feel raging breaths inflate his lungs, and he reaches to dangerously hold a wooden chair in his hands.

"Don't you dare throw that!" Breeze points at the stool, not sure about how to deal with him in such a state of mind.

As Dean indignantly lets go of the chair, he gets a feeling he can't stay a second longer in that room, nor the apartment. He has a craving for alcohol, multiple fixes possibly. He grabs his jacket and leaves the room, marching past Tyler without even looking at him.

"Dean? Dean!"

He ignores the perplexed calls the man gives him, for his blond head's good.

It's almost opening time for the club but, instead of getting dressed, Dean is ready for the drinks, which is how he finds himself crouching at the bar, looking for a good bottle.

"Saved his fucking life and now I'm a goddamn liability. Fuck him." He mumbles angrily to himself. Fuck the rules, fuck work and especially fuck Roman Reigns. Fuck him for asking to be trusted. "Ambrose, the hell you doing behind my damn bar?" A familiar angry voice scolds him.

Dean raises his head to see Sasha looking down on him. "Boss, looking lovely as ever." He takes a mentally long breath, he doesn't want to deal with her now.

The young woman gives him one of her smiles screaming dangerous. "I'm sure you weren't looking for a drink an hour before we open, right?"

Dean gets up on his feet and licks his lips, flashing a charming smile. "Why would I do that? I know the rules, I was just organizing. I used to bartend."

"Get the fuck outta there and get ready." She says, obviously not buying any of his bullshit.

"Any chance I have clients today?" He slips out of the counter, trying to distract himself from the annoyance of being caught.

"You barely worked these past few days, what clients? Shake your ass and we'll see if you get lucky today."

"I'll shake it extra hard just for you." He sarcastically takes a bow and leaves.

"I'll let you keep the damn beer you have in your jacket just this once! And Ambrose!" She calls out, arms crossed against her chest.

Dean turns around, listening, not commenting on the beer he has indeed tucked away.

"I'm glad you're doing better, Becky was asking."

"I'm fine. Hey, is one of you not good in bed? Is this why you're such in a bad mood?" He teases, lying through gritted teeth.

"The only one who gets me in a bad mood is you. The fuck outta here, and get ready."

Dean prays Roman won't be attending the soiree, because he might punch the guy himself and then he'd have to start running from another mob boss. Should be easy enough, at this point.

****

Roman walks into the club sharp-dressed as usual, tailored suit and Italian shoes. He chose an amaranth shade for his tie, the one his mom always tells him he looks so good with. He can't actually believe he's acting like he hopes to impress a special someone, because he doesn't really need to impress anyone and Dean certainly isn't a silly teen crush. Still, he appears to be the reason why Roman is now smiling, even in such pivotal times. He's probably about to meet with the man who murdered his father in a few days, but he can't stay away from such a sweet, addictive distraction. He doesn't recognize himself.

"Rome!" Sasha greets him with a huge smile on her face, that he mirrors. "I didn't know you were coming, you should have called me."

He kisses both cheeks of that tiny, strong woman he loves like a sister. "It was a last minute decision, actually. Can you have my booth arranged?"

"Sure!" She says, snapping her fingers at the two guys standing behind her. She gives them the order, and they quickly disappear in the crowd. "Are we waiting for someone?"

"Yes. Uh, I mean no. I just-" Roman fades out, his eyes landing on a well-known figure hanging about the bar.

Dean is leaning against the counter, gazing at some guy who's clearly interested in him. The hand he cunningly slides toward Dean's waist is quick to travel lower and grope his ass. Like he owns that.

Sasha turns around to see what Roman's looking so repulsed at. "What is going on with you and Ambrose?"

"I wish I fucking knew." He slightly shakes his head, trying to call that pestering feeling that's upsetting him any other name rather than jealousy. "Have someone escort him to my booth. Nobody else gets in." He says, seemingly detached, before taking his leave.

****

"Hell yeah we can go somewhere private." Dean's perfect fake smirk is shining at the poor sucker of a client that stands in front of him.

"Excuse me, sir. Apologizing for the inconvenience but we'll have to ask you to try our other dancers. Dean, come with me." The respect and seriousness in the guard's voice makes the client quickly leave his side.

"The fuck, man?! You just cost me money!" Dean growls. "Goddamn, what do you want?"

"Mr Reigns has asked for you to join him in his private booth."

"You can tell Mr. Reigns to kiss my a-" Dean bites his lips angrily. "Fine!" He snarls, grudgingly letting the guard show the way. He wiggles out of a risky attempt from the guy's part to grab him by his arm. "Don't touch me. I can walk."

When they reach the place, the watchman pulls the pale curtain back, just enough for Dean to slip inside. Roman's waiting for him, seated in the middle of a white couch that goes around half the perimeter, bluish lights painting unusual shades on his tense face.

Bothered, Dean looks anywhere but into his eyes, pacing up and down the space only delimited by a thin cascade of textile. "Why am I here?"

"You leave without saying goodbye, I come here to find you rubbing against some guy... What is wrong with you?"

"Excuse me, isn't that the whole point of being a whore?"

"Don't give me that. You know what I fucking mean. Come here."

"No. Fuck you, man. You tell me to trust you and a second later you're saying I'm a liability."

"What are you even ta-" Roman stops, as realization hits him. "You listened to my private business conversation?" He asks, leaping to his feet.

"I wanted to say goodbye! For once in my life I'm trying to be polite and it comes back to bite me in the fucking ass."

"Would you stop jumping to such conclusions? Owens and I weren't talking about you."

"What were you talking about then?"

Roman sighs, loosening his tie before sitting again and patting on the empty spot next to him. "Come sit here."

Dean takes a deep breath as he goes sitting by Roman's side. Somehow, he doubts his own intentions the moment he gets close to him and smells his cologne. "I'm listening."

"Helmsley asked for a meeting, says he wants something I have. He's the liability, not you." Roman says, brooding.

"Bastard wants me."

"You can't know for sure."

"You don't know how pissed off he was when I ran away, he wants me dead."

"I'm considering granting him this meeting. It might be useful to me. If he asks for your head, he can get the fuck out of my face."

"Can I be there? At the meeting? I can hide or whatever. I just wanna hear what he has to say, if this is about me."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea..."

"Please?" Dean asks, folding his hands as his blue eyes stare expectantly at Roman's.

To the boss, that feels like an attempt at bribery. A very cute one. "Let's see if we can arrange this. I don't know why I'm saying yes to you."

"Is it because I'm half naked?"

The chuckle shaking Roman's chest makes him lower his gaze in defeat. His eyes roam over Dean's glistening skin softly, indeed feasting upon that land of beauty. "What are you even doing to me?"

Dean licks his lips as he climbs into Roman's lap. "Nothing. Yet."

He coos, drawn to the other man's mouth. Their kiss runs on a lazy, mellow fire, burning them slowly but ceaselessly. Roman's touch on his back is cruelly gentle, the way he gets to hold Dean's waist subtly possessive.

Dean smirks between the kiss, more and more aware of Roman's obsession with the narrow curve merging into his hips. He loves having the boss' silent, warm claim imprinted on there, where those fingers keep finding their favorite place to rest, and grasp.

Swaying a little to get more balance, he brushes against Roman's building hardness, which makes Dean's ego swell with pride. "Shall we go to your office?" He asks, a mischievous grin on his face.

"No." It's all Roman manages to growl, making his point by biting Dean's wet lower lip, pulling and sucking on it until it so deliciously, painfully burns. "I ordered everyone to stay the fuck away from here."

"Hoped you'd say that." The other grins, tongue flicking over his own reddened lip in a sweet torture that slightly tastes of blood. "Did I hit a nerve, Big Dog? When you saw me with that client...?"

"Who? That slob over the counter who would have never fucked you half as good as I did even with my arm like this? Don't be ridiculous."

"Oooh, very smug, aren't we?"

"And with good reason." Roman declares in a self-satisfied tone. "I haven't finished yet, with you."

"Me neither..." Dean bites his lips as his hand moves further down, caressing Roman's stomach until reaching his pants, slowly unzipping them. "What is it with you?" He wonders, almost talking to himself, their foreheads touching.

As Dean stands up and quickly drops to his knees, he still doesn't understand why he feels so attached to someone as dangerous as Roman Reigns. He even has to repeat himself that this is just sex, they're just having fun.

Dean realizes now how much wrong he was for thinking Roman wanted to get rid of him, and that he'll have to remind himself to not rush to judgement when it comes to a man that gave him nothing but the truth so far. He has to give Roman more credit about the integrity of his word.

Besides, since the boss made a client run away from him, he might as well have fun with that cock one more time.

Dean smirks, tongue between his teeth as he reaches to unbutton Roman's expensive sartorial pants. He doesn't waste time in pulling his cock out and salute its towering shape with a skillful stroke of his tongue. That makes the man growl and writhe on his seat.

"Relax, Big Dog." Dean chuckles, planting kisses on Roman's inner thigh as he jerks him off really slow just to feel his muscles twitch.

"Fucking... hell. Dean." The man curses, his right hand leaping forward to hold on to Dean's curls.

Dean swallows Roman's cock, his mouth gladly embracing that hot hardness until it reaches the back of his throat. He slides into a mental space where chaos ceases, for his only focus is to give Roman one of the best blowjobs he's ever got in his life. To make a man who bathes in power shake under his relentless ministrations.

Blissfully leaning against the seatback, the boss can't help but smile at the thought that the only thing separating them from a crowd of people is the white curtain. The right beam of light could expose their silhouettes to anyone's gaze. He fondles Dean's hair, grateful, as the man sucks the sanity out of him, and his voice gets deeper and uncleaner with every moan.

****

Roman has decided not to wear his sling, eliminating any visible sign of weakness from his persona. He can't allow himself to show the man who killed his father any vulnerability, ever. He can still feel the kiss his mother pressed on his cheek as he left the mansion, while he sits in his office at the club, the quiet before the storm so silent it's deafening.

"Don't trust him." She has said, grievously. "He's the reason why my marriage bed is empty."

Roman can hear those words echo through his mind, thumping and screeching at his bleeding conscience. He doesn't want to admit that maybe accepting to meet with Hunter has been a mistake.

"Hey, man. Are you okay?"

Dean's question is murmured against his neck, as Roman pulls him closer for a hug. He does it without even noticing, like a kid in need of reassurance. The rawest, most unpolished part of him still trembles at the loss, and doesn't wear a kingly crown. You wouldn't know it even exists, but Dean gets to learn that it does.

"Trying to be."

"I can kick his ass again if it'll make you feel better."

"What about we do that together?"

"Big Dog got some moves other than shooting a gun?"

"A man's first weapon are his fists."

"Now you speak my language." He pauses. "Listen, I promise that if this meeting isn't about me, I won't say a word."

Roman cups his face in response, kissing him kindly, thankfully. A jolt of pain flashes through his shoulder, but he's resolved on ignoring it.

"Shoulder bothering you?" There's slight worry in Dean's voice.

"No more than the usual. Should have taken more painkillers."

A knock on the door makes their heart jump. "Sir, Helmsley's here."

Dean nods. "Okay, I'mma go hide and you be careful." He gives Roman one last smile and a peck on his lips, his fingers gently leaving the other's.

After Dean sneaks inside the small bathroom, Jimmy and Jey walk into the office to take their place by Roman's side. Guns loaded, ready to fight and even die to protect their cousin and boss.

When the guard opens the door, there it is standing out against it, the frame of the man that Roman used to hope he'd see just one last time, that bastard on his knees, begging for his life. But now that same man is making himself at home in his own goddamn office, two of his people shielding his back. The guard quietly disappear.

"Roman, how are you? How's that shoulder?" With a smug smile, Hunter steps closer and reaches to shake his left hand roughly.

Roman doesn't grant him the satisfaction of wincing. He just clenches his jaw before smiling back, scornful. "Healing fast, Helmsley. I've got good genetics."

"Those good Italian genetics are sure helpful. Speaking of, how's your lovely mother?"

The young man does his best not to snarl. His heart throbs furiously, as the picture of a butchered enemy paints itself before his eyes. Taking that life away would be so satisfying that the sole thought of it makes his body quiver in pleasure. "How's your wife?"

Hunter stops to evaluate Roman's acrimonious reaction, playing with his cufflinks to parade his calmness. "This is exactly why I wanted this meeting. It hurts me that we got to this point, too much bad blood between our families and for what? Pride? Ego? We both made mistakes and I'm here to offer peace."

"To hell with your peace offering. I don't forget about spilt blood." Roman hisses, and for a moment his father's hand weighs on his shoulder again.

"And I respect that about you, but let's erase the past for a second and-"

"Don't you dare talk to me about respect, nor give me yours. I don't need it."

"If you didn't think you needed it, you wouldn't have accepted my offer."

"I'd put it this way: I'm a curious man. I haven't accepted anything yet."

"I want to offer a business deal. No more blood, no more wars. We won't get in each other's way. I'll even give you one of my finest clubs if you want, as a show of faith."

Hunter's words pour themselves into Roman's ears as cobra venom coated in honey.

"So you're willing to split the take. In return for what, I wonder."

"A few months ago a man came to you for help. His name is Dean Ambrose. He's one of my former fighters. I would like him back, and whatever he might have told you, you can rest assured that that man is lying."

The casual tone the man's been using doesn't fool Roman in the slightest. Trusting Dean's word on the matter, the boss is still willing to play with his nemesis. "Is he a valuable asset to you?"

"Let's just say he and I have unfinished business."

"Well..." Roman savors what he's going to say before it even leaves his mouth. Looking straight into the other man's treacherous eyes, he lets his own response slip sweetly from his lips. "You can just crawl back from where you came from, because I'm not gonna hand him to you."

"Why? He means nothing to you. He works here as a whore, I'm offering you peace and money. Roman. Be wise."

"So you think you can come here and tell me how to run my empire? I'm not the green kid you remember. And I am not giving you Ambrose, no matter what's at stake. I quite enjoy having something you won't ever have, and I won't deny myself such a pleasure."

"Oh, now I get it." Hunter's hint of a laugh is almost thunderous in the tense silence of the office. "But see, I already had him. He's not that bad in bed, that's-"

"You fucking bastard!" As the profanity is yelled, Dean springs out of his hiding place and tackles Hunter to the floor, punching him straight in the face. The sound of it, Roman will never forget. "I never fucking slept with you! You piece of shit, I wouldn't touch you with a goddamn stick! You lying son of a bitch!"

The room gets electric as the twins burst forth, guns pointing at the men shielding Hunter, who don't know if they should keep their weapons too or pull that wild man away from their boss.

Much to anyone's surprise, Roman is the one stepping forward to do that. "Dean. Enough."

He lowers to grab Dean's belt with his left hand, gently but firmly pulling him away from Hunter with the help of his other, healthy arm.

"I'll fucking lay another one on you! Let's go, you sick fuck! You can fucking suck it again for all I care." Dean yells while his back lands against Roman's chest.

Hunter laughs as he licks the blood off his lip, propping himself on one elbow. "Ambrose, aren't you full of surprises. Been here a few months, survived a shooting and now you're hiding in a secret meeting." He gets up on his two feet, quick to shoo the men trying to hold him up. "Roman, a pleasure seeing you again. I have to say, your sniper is really good if he manages to shoot a moving vehicle, shame those two shooters fell off a cliff."

A bitter spike of realization darts through Roman's mind as both Jimmy and Jey advance in attack. Their guns a click away from spitting fire.

Dean growls, trying to wiggle away from Roman's hold. "You shot at us?! No, let go of me! I'll wipe the smirk off his fucking face."

"Shhh, no. Dean. I got this." Roman whispers, so close to the man's ear that the slightest graze of his lips touches the other's skin, both arms securely wrapped around him.

"And yet again, you're doing absolutely nothing. Your father would be ashamed of you."

Roman knows that's a lie, but even it being breathed in his presence brings so much pain to his heart that if it weren't for the warm body he has to hold, he would have jumped at Hunter's throat and the fucker wouldn't have left the office in one goddamn piece. "You can rest assured that when I'm going to strike back I won't fucking miss. You'll die bloody, Hunter. Believe that." Roman says instead, pronouncing that as a vow to God.

"Reigns' are the ones who die bloody. Goodbye, Roman. Ambrose, we'll see each other again." Hunter smirks before turning around and, along with his men, leaving the room.

"We're gonna make sure he actually gets the fuck out." Jimmy says, his brother and him following them downstairs.

"That fucking asshole." Dean grunts, turning around to face Roman. "I hope you kill him one day. You believe me though, right? I never slept with him."

"I do, babe." Roman nods, his fingers brushing some rebel strands of hair away from Dean's face.

Dean doesn't know what it is, but Roman's touch makes him want to close his eyes and surrender peacefully. "Thank you, for not selling me out. I know you hate him but you could've gotten something from that, right? From the deal."

Roman grabs his chin with so much care, his stare growing unappeasable to declare how serious he is. "I don't care. I'll be dead before he puts his hands on you again. You saved my life, I won't ever forget about it."

Dean feels like for probably the first time, Roman's only giving him half the truth. "Just because I saved your life? I'd like to think you'd miss me." He teases, melting against his neck to kiss any anxiety away.

"That... might also be true." Roman sighs, tickled by those attentions. As much as he needs to lapse into them to move on from the nightmare of Helmsley's voice, he still finds himself able to pull away in order to lock eyes with Dean again. "I've never met anyone like you before."

"I know." He smiles, genuinely, as if a window has been opened to flash warm sunlight straight to his heart. "You're gonna get your revenge on him, I can feel it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to point out that the sex scene alone took us 30 years. 
> 
> –Puppy.
> 
> ____________________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> She’s telling the truth, guys.  
> Also, I wanted to thank pezziecoyote for being such a perf beta-reader!
> 
> –Phoenixstein


	2. part II

"There was this dude when I used to live on the streets that talked about aliens and shit, he was probably off his meds but he could have been right, I mean, who says we're the only fucking creatures in this universe? It's like saying there's only one type of burger when there are like ten billions of them." Dean walks towards the shelves on which stands a set of stylized designer figurines that he really doesn't know the purpose of. Not even a speck of dust is laying on their shiny surfaces.

"Do you eat fast food? I assume with all the fancy stuff going on that you don't enjoy the awfulness of that." He grabs one of the statues and looks at it, not really thinking about what he's holding, just responding to the need of keeping his hands busy. "I would love some pizza now. Is it okay if I order like fifty boxes and make Sasha pay? Her and Becky are really cute together if we're being honest." He turns around to look at Roman. "Does it do anything?" He asks, trying to find a button or something like that on the object.

The other man is lead astray by the many changes of subject, so he chooses to start from the end. "I'm afraid it doesn't. What were you saying, though? You believe in aliens and such?" He points out, quite intrigued.

"Of course, who wouldn't?" Dean shrugs.

"Hm, me? I mean, I've never really thought about it. Never had the time."

"Nothing should be more important than thinking if you believe in something or not." He puts the statue back where it was, disappointed by its uselessness. "Why would you have something that doesn't do anything? You should really spend your money more wisely, man. I can break it if you want." He suggests.

Roman chuckles, shaking his head at the insinuation. It's like he can't even recall how he could use to keep his guard up with Dean. He rises from the armchair to get closer to the man his trust flows so naturally to, and takes his hands between his own. "Do these never stop?" He asks, sweetly.

"What do you mean?"

"I, uh- Tried to educate myself about ADHD, so I'd know if I, uh- I guess I should just ask you."

"Why? Sure, ask all you want but I'm not the right person to talk to about this, barely know about it myself."

"I just wanted to know if you need something, or me to do something? When we're spending time together, I mean. I don't even know. This sounded better in my head."

Dean smiles, finding the confusion on Roman's face adorable. "Nah, man. I'm good. I can't take any ADHD pills though, bad side effects. Reason why I don't do drugs in general, except pot, if you wanna call that a drug. Only shit I ever did. Haven't smoked in fucking ages though."

"Good. I'm sorry about those bad side effects, but I'm glad you don't do drugs." He smiles back, his nose brushing lightly against Dean's. "Don't really need to."

"Mom had all the info about that, tried so many pills but they usually either gave me a killer headache, kept me up all night or a mix of both. We ditched it. I was worried that if I took drugs, it would have had an even worse side effect on me. Didn't want to risk it." He explains. "You asked if it ever stops and no, it doesn't. It's not something I can control."

"I get it, was a smart choice. Drugs are… risky. Dirty. I don't deal with any branch of that business."

"I know. Everyone on the streets knows. You go to the Big Dog if you want money and justice, not drugs."

"It's difficult to remain a major player, if you don't deal with coke, h, or some other shit. Still, I don't want my people to get dragged through hell and back, nor my father's name dishonored. You have to be smart and keep the cash flowing so everyone's happy, hopefully loyal. But not with drugs, I won't. Ever."

Closeness and quiet seem to encourage a tender, private, mutual exchange of informations. They wrap words in warmness, surrendering to a level of confidence they both had learned to prudently lock up for different reasons.

"You're doing good, Ro. You should be proud of what you accomplished so far."

"Thanks." Roman utters, a glimpse of a smile still brightening his face. "I am. I always ask myself if my old man would be, too."

"I bet he would've."

"What about your father?" Roman's question is posed with the sole intention of putting together the pieces of the unfinished puzzle Dean is.

The other shifts uneasily under Roman's gaze. "Dead." He walks towards the boss' armchair and sits down, propping his feet up on the desk. "This feels fucking weird, man. Did you kill people in this room?"

"You're gonna hurt yourself sitting like that." Roman warns him, lost between what he meant to say and what he actually said. He remembers Dean mentioning his mother months ago, while they were talking about what it means to lose a parent. Roman's pretty sure he didn't breathe a single word about his old man, back then.

"I was in worse positions, you should know better since you put me in them. Took full advantage of your shoulder being a 100% again, didn't you?" Dean smirks, his tongue sticking out as he recalls all the great fucking that's been going on between them in the last few weeks.

Roman knows a diversion when he sees one, but he respects Dean's boundaries and doesn't inquire further about his family history. "And…" The boss stresses, approaching him to shoo his feet off the desk. "You're gonna ruin my furniture."

"And…?"

Roman's huge smile betrays his intention as he ducks toward the occupant haughtily sitting on his throne. "Do you wanna be the first person to get killed in this room?"

"Only if it's by your cock." Dean pulls Roman closer by his suit lapel to kiss him, tongue sweeping smoothly against his.

The boss doesn't get the proper chance to kiss him back – fiercely as he wants, as he needs to – because his phone's ringing and the spark is off.

"I hate that ringtone by now. Jus' think you should know." Dean snorts, annoyed, while making the chair spin like a child would.

"I'll make it up to you, babe." Roman mouths after answering the call. "Sami, hey. Car's ready?"

"Tell Sami I said hi." Dean gets up from the chair. "I'll escort you."

"Dean says hi. And tell your husband to stop complaining, I can hear him. I'll be there in a minute." Roman shakes his head while putting away the phone. He shouldn't be so amused, considering he's about to sit at the head of a meeting table in less than an hour.

As they quickly go downstairs, the two of them part ways, not without one more kiss. Roman just can't help pulling Dean closer, hands circling his waist, soft breath against his mouth.

"I'll see you later?" Dean smiles, hope shining through his eyes.

"Yes. I'll tell Sasha you're taking the night off, I wanna take you out for dinner."

"You sure it's safe for us to be out together? I mean, last time we got shot." Dean chuckles.

"It is. Don't worry about that." Roman reassures him, fingers toying lazily with the line of Dean's sideburns. "I have to go now. I'll be in touch."

Dean waves to him, vaguely revved up by the fresh scent Roman always leaves behind him and that he misses once it fades. ‘Damn, I should have asked him where we'll be going. Do I have to make myself look dapper?'

As he strokes his neck, looking for an answer from himself, he gets interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Dean's eyes dart toward the source of that call, to find that his flat mates are looking at him with inquiring faces.

"What? Why you staring at me like that?" His question's followed by a puzzled expression. He's pretty sure he hasn't forgotten his turn to clean the apartment.

"Man, are you serious? Anything you want to tell us?" Tyler's pat on his back clarifies the matter.

"Tell you what? Nothing's going on. Wait, you talking about Ro?"

"Ohhh, so he's  _Ro_  now." Finn grins, definitely interested in that detail.

Dean's throaty laugh challenges their nosiness. "Not your business, leprechaun."

"Come on, Dean. We're concerned about you, we want to make sure you know what you're doing." Tyler declares dramatically, after checking for a notification on his phone.

"Well, I know what I'm doing. The most handsome man I’ve ever laid my eyes on."

"Everyone knows what's going on between you and Reigns. You're barely working. You're not even getting on that podium anymore, just spending your time in  _his_  private booth. Sasha doesn't give a shit because she loves the boss like a big brother, but she would have kicked any of our asses to the curb if we did the same. You told me you wanted to buy a new car, man, you can't do that if you got no money."

"What Tyler means is-"

"Exactly what I said. I've already warned you, Dean."

"We're just having fun. It's just great sex."

"Yeah well, he ain't paying you."

"Your _Dango_ isn't paying you either, don't fucking lecture me."

"That's different. Dango and I- Don't fucking twist this, Dean."

"I'm not twisting shit. You always talk about how you want to be with him, but you're doing nothing, man. You stay here dancing and fucking other men." Dean snaps.

"Dean, stop-" Finn tries to calm the presents down, but gets cut off.

"Roman and I are having fun. We're not teenagers in love."

"You're just as oblivious as your fashion sense. My god, you can't even take some friendly advice."

"Never needed any advice, I'm good."

"You know what, Ambrose? Don't come to me when you got nothing to eat. Or worse, when he gets tired of you. Because he will, he changes partners like he changes his suits… which are very well tailored, by the way.” Tyler seems to wander off all of a sudden. Finn clears his throat, waving his hand in front of the man’s face. Tyler shakes his head, glaring at Finn for interrupting his haute couture daydream, then looks at Dean again. “You're not the first whore he’s ever fucked. That’s all I’m saying."

His phone rings. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Tyler gives his hair a quick fix, as if that makes any sense, and walks away to take the call.

Finn looks so sorry about the direction the whole thing just went, and starts to regret his previous approach to the matter. "Dean, please. Listen, we're just worried you're havin' so much fun you're forgettin' that ya need to make a livin', earn money. Get outta ‘ere someday, ya know? None of us wanna stay  _dancers_  for the rest of our lives. Have ya ever thought this is why he ain't with Fandango? Because he doesn't know how to do anythin' else, he needs money to figure it out."

"Thanks, but I still don't need you guys' help, I'm a big boy." Dean scoffs, mocking the poignancy of Finn's concerns.

****

Standing outside the building with his hands tucked in his pockets, Dean's killing the time by kicking at the curb. He chose to wear his grey leather jacket and his less worn pair of skinny jeans, and also decided to slick back his hair. Seeing his own reflection in the mirrored surface of the club's door, he's aware of how hot he looks, and can't wait to find out what are Roman's thoughts on that. Bets are open on how long it's going to take for the boss to get his hands all over him.

Dean tilts his head just to look at his earring sparkle under the night lights, and then a few cars pulling over catch his attention. He turns around to see the one in the middle rolling down the window. Behind the wheel of a quite anonymous sedan Roman's smiling at him.

"Hi baby. Been waiting long?"

"Hey, Ro. Nah, not long." Dean opens the passenger's door to slide in. "Where are we going that you need several cars for?"

"It's just a precautionary measure. I don't want anything to ruin our night out."  
It's their night out, just the two of them? Dean was sure that Roman probably just wanted to take him out to a meeting to dance around clients, maybe distract them into agreeing to whatever he needed.

"Our night out? Together? If it's anything like the nights in your bed, we'll be fine." Dean smirks. 

"Come here." Roman beckons, teasing, crooking his finger at him.

Dean pulls himself closer to give his lips a peck, breaking it before the other man can kiss back, his tongue sticking out as he restrains his popping smirk.

"And you really think that will suffice?" Roman sneers, his hand quick to stroke Dean's thigh expectantly.

"Nope. You'll have to make due though, unless you wanna have sex in your car."

"Well…" Roman admits, his body carefully leaning toward the other's. "Doesn't seem such a bad idea." He says, lapping and nibbling at the man's jaw up to his earlobe, where he places an adoring kiss before pulling the soft skin between his teeth. "You're so fucking beautiful. I bet you know. I bet you know how crazy you drive me. Fucking beautiful."

Dean closes his eyes, blissfully. He doesn't know what's going on between them anymore, and it's confusing the hell out of him, so he rather not face it right now. Or ever. He grabs Roman's face to kiss him, his composure inexorably foundering in the sweet haze of their closeness.

"I'm only stopping because there's a reserved table waiting for us." Roman whispers, nuzzling.

"I'm not dressed in the right code, am I? I'm not a fancy guy, dude. I would've been okay even if you took us to a diner."

"We can go to a diner next time, then, have some fast food. I can be a street guy, too!" Roman chuckles, willing to prove a point.

"There's gonna be a next time?" Dean laughs is genuine. "No offense, but I don't think you could survive in the streets very long."

"So what, you think I'm a fucking fop? Don't fool yourself, I'm more than just my habits." Roman does his best impression of an offended gentleman, but he actually hopes Dean doesn't see him that way.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, man. I've either seen you naked or with a suit on, do you even put on something that didn't come in three pieces?"

"Well. I wasn't wearing a suit after I got shot. And I'm pretty sure you've seen me in a robe as well." Roman states, fastening his seatbelt.

"That's because people always remember they need the Big Dog right after we have sex. Don't you get annoyed by that?"

"Not really. I mean, so much power comes with responsibilities. I have to put others first most of the time. I can never stop looking after my people, all of them."

"I could never fucking do that. You need to take care of yourself too, though. You're just as important, man."

"I am taking care of myself now." Roman smiles cleverly, glancing at Dean one last time before starting the engine. "Put your seatbelt on. Just in case."

"No, seriously. How fancy is the restaurant?" Dean asks while doing as requested. He already feels out of place at the Reigns' mansion, but Roman can usually distract him very efficiently from that sensation.

The row of cars part from the Rabbit Hole, entering the flow of night traffic.

"Enough for us to have a quiet, nice Italian dinner."

"I'll take your word for it." Dean takes a look at the rear-view mirror, feeling uneasiness by the presence of the vehicles behind them. 

Roman, never ceasing to study him even out of the corner of his eye, can't help but notice. "They won't sit with us, babe. Don't worry." He jokes.

"They'll be close though, right?" If Roman thought that them being out together was such a risk, why doing it? Is he worth the risk of getting hurt?

"Yes. But it's just me being cautious."

By now Dean knows better, he knows that Roman felt guilty when the shooting happened, and that's the reason behind these security procedures. "If it puts your mind at ease, I won't argue."

The drive is safe, though, and they get to their destination quite rapidly. Roman hits the brakes in front of an antique building facing the ocean, whose sign reads " _Il Canto delle Sirene_ ".

"What does the sign say?"

"The Song of the Sirens. Seafood is their specialty."

"Do you speak fluent Italian?" Dean asks as they exit the car.

"Not as much as my mother would, I'm afraid. I grew up having to learn three languages. Let's say I know my way around with both Italian and Samoan."

"Big Dog has many talents, I see."

All his life Roman has been hearing meaningless flatteries addressed to him, and Dean sounds so different from all of that. He smiles, realizing that that man really has the unusual ability to make him lower his gaze in an innocent, delicate way. Part of him still wants to fight that, but the other half of his soul keeps telling him how good it feels to be Roman, sometimes. Just Roman. Just for Dean.

"Thanks." He mumbles, before his hand takes once again its rightful place on the small of Dean's back to lead him inside. It has become a reflex he can't really – nor wants to – avoid.

In the foyer, a waistcoated guy politely welcomes them. Recognizing Roman's face, he doesn't indulge in any question. A couple of Roman's soldiers follow them into the hall, while the other two stay behind, monitoring the entrance under the concerned yet compliant gaze of the usher.

Another man escorts Dean and Roman to their table, arguably placed in one of the most intimate and beautiful corners of the restaurant. Soft blueish lights reverberate beautifully all over the surface of the enormous fish tank their table faces, painting submerged mermaid statues a magical shade.

"The place. It's beautiful, as fancy as it is." Dean says as he sits.

"Aaaw come on, it's not even that fancy."

"I grew up sitting in diners and I lived on the streets for a while, man. Lot of shit is fancy to me."

"You keep repeating that, as if you want me to remember that we're… different."

"We are, though."

"Believe me if I say that I'm a very proud person. Proud of my bloodline, proud of my power, proud of my wealth, too. But I don't want any of this to weigh on us, to raise walls between us. Because you and-"

As a waiter gets to their table to hand over a couple of menus, Roman trails off and greets him with a courteous smile.

"I don't really know what to order." Dean says, leafing through the pages. "Maybe the salmon."

"Sounds good. May I suggest you to try some smoked salmon linguine?"

"Yeah, I'll take it. I don't know anything about Italian food. Wait. Do pizza and macaroni count?"

"Not after you've tried this." Roman chuckles, tapping the leather cover of the menu.

When the waiter comes back to take their orders, they end up asking for some swordfish appetizers and what are the best main dishes according to Roman's experience. Plus, grilled prawns, gratin mussels, garlic bread and a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

After the waiter takes his leave, Dean slightly squirms on his seat. "You were saying? Because me and something. Me and what?"

"Uh-" Roman starts, quite reluctant. He thought that the interruption was maybe a sign telling him to shut his mouth. "What I meant to say is that it doesn't have to work like that between you and me. I don't want you to look at me and see this dapper rich kid who knows nothing about hard life. I thought what we had was something else. I thought you could see me."

"I see you, man. I know you're far away from being a spoiled brat. I'm just saying that it's a fact that we both had very different lives and I'm not used to seeing huge mansions and beautiful restaurants." Dean settles for a partial answer, because he's not willing to admit that Roman's right about them sharing something that probably runs deeper than just sex. He didn't care to slick back his hair in years, and he suddenly doesn't wanna know why he decided to do so that very night. It was some kind of childish reflex he has to suppress as soon as possible, before the reason behind it starts fucking him up.

"Alright." Roman nods, his eyes falling on Dean's fingers toying with the cutlery. "Well, you better get used to it. To your new life."

"I'm getting used to it, slowly. Staying at the apartment above the club took some getting used to too."

"You getting along with your flat mates?"

"Had a little bit of a fight today, but it's good."

"Fight about what?"

Dean stops in his tracks. "Uh, Breeze and Fandango's relationship."

Roman slightly tilts his head at that. "Fandango is a good client of mine. You can often find him at my casino, too. He does have a soft spot for Breeze, that I can see."

"I think it's more of a hard spot, you know what I'm saying?" Dean smirks.

Roman's giggling almost cause him to spill the wine he's pouring. "So what, he tells you all about that? I hope you're not blabbering about our encounters, too."

"Even if I did, it's all good things, Big Dog. Tell your ego that you're good in bed."

"Oh, but my ego is well aware of that."

****

"You were right, pizza and pasta aren't the only Italian food. That was actually delicious." Dean says, taking a sip of his wine as he finishes eating his meal.

Plates have been emptied, taste buds have been pleased, and plenty of wine has flowed to pamper them. Roman smiles at Dean's appreciation, glad to know the evening is proceeding as he planned. He calls the first waiter he can reach and asks for the check.

"No need for that, Mr. Reigns." The young man says, reverence coming through his gracious tone.

"I insist." The boss states.

While both of them wait for the guy to be back, Roman snaps his fingers at the two men who entered the restaurant with them. His soldiers put aside their plates and get themselves ready to go.

Dean isn't used to know that people are staking him out – so damn close to him – and not run away. Those guys felt like a fucking itch the whole time they were there. Roman managed to take Dean's mind off them for a while, but he still felt like the men were looking at something he didn't want them to look at.

As the check is presented at their table, Dean is still distracted by their presence, which gives Roman some advantage to grab it. "This is on me."

"Mm, what?" Dean looks at Roman, noticing he was looking at the check. "No, dude. Come on. How much?" He asks as he reaches for his wallet in his jacket.

"Don't bother, baby. Let me. It's… a lot."

"How much is a lot?"

"A lot is a lot. You don't really have to."

"Come on, how much?" Dean chuckles, there's no way their meal was that expensive.

Roman sighs and slides the piece of paper towards him. "Forget about it, ok?"

Dean stills, letting go of the wallet in his jacket. "Yeah." He can't fucking pay for this.

His earlier conversation with Tyler and Finn starts echoing in his head, and fuck them, they were right. Dean can't pay for an expensive dinner, he can't fucking buy the car he wants, and if Roman charged rent, he probably couldn't even afford that. 'Shit'. He realizes.

Roman leaves a generous tip along with what is due, but is not blind to Dean's discomfort. Still, he waits until they get back to the car before speaking his mind, mellow as always.

"I don't like that look in your eyes. Really, that was… It was no big deal."

"It's not that. Well, yes it is that. But also not that." Dean rubs his neck. "I'm about to ruin our night."

"What? Why?"

"I have fun with you, you know? You're a silly man under the suits you're always wearing. Sex is obviously great. And somehow you're following me even if I talk for ten minutes straight about twenty different things." Dean pauses, his heart shredded. "But you're not paying me for any of that. I don't want you to. But I still need money, Roman. I need to pay for stuff and I can't do it if you're pulling me from work six days out of the week." He takes a deep breath, doesn't know why this is so hard for him. "We should stop having sex. Just– If you come to the club, don't pick me up."

Roman can feel himself detaching from their surroundings, Dean's words cutting through his skin like shards of glass. Only thing he knows, is that he doesn't want to fulfill that request even if he has to. "I see. I get it." He says, cold. "I was being selfish, I should have known better. I'm taking you home."

"You weren't the only one being selfish. No, it's fine, I'll uh– I'll take a cab."

Roman shakes his head, slowly, his jaw clenching. "I'm taking you home, and that's it. Let me do this, and then I'll let you go."

"Alright, fine." Dean agrees, getting to the passenger's seat.

The drive is silent, neither of them saying anything, and the only noise they can hear is the car rolling through the streets. Roman's neck is tense, but his grip on the steering wheel feeble, as he's headed toward a destination he doesn't really intend to reach.

Dean feels a treacherous pain aggrieving his chest. After his mom's death, all he ever did was think about himself and nobody else, and that's because it was his only way to survive on the streets. He can't change that now just because his heart is begging for it. It's stupid, there could be no happy ending in sight. And besides, since when does he think himself worthy of one?

The Rabbit Hole's facade never looked so dreary, so dull. In Roman's eyes, the whole place an enemy of concrete and glass that menaces to take Dean away from him. He can't stand the idea of that man walking away, hiding behind those walls. But even his power has to have its limits, bow its head and-

"Please." He begs.

Dean gives him a questioning look. "You'll be fine, Big Dog. I bet that I'm not the only person you're sleeping with right now anyway."

"Why you assuming that?"

"Because you're Roman Reigns. Are you saying you’ve only slept with me? Because that would be adorable."

"Would that make you change your mind? Come home with me?"

"I want to, but they were right, man. I don't care about cash but I need it, as hard as it is for me to admit it."

"They were right? Who?"

"Shit."

"Breeze and Bálor? So you did talk to them about us."

"I didn't, they saw us."

"And what? It's none of their damn business."

"But they were right. Can't live for fucking free, man. You don't owe me anything, this isn't a fucking fairytale, come on. It was just sex. Right?"

"You're free to go. You came here to work, didn't you?"

"Don't do this." Dean opens the door anyway, but he's greeted by nothing but silence. "Fuck it, alright. Goodbye, Roman."

As he exits the car, his mind thinks of nothing but the lie he told. He promised Roman he would have never done that. "It wasn't just sex." He admits, his foot already on the curb. "I– I don't know what this was." He shakes his head and closes the door behind his back.


	3. part III

Roman follows the familiar tune leading him to the piano room, his steps made lighter by the sweetness in the music. His mom stops for a moment when he opens the door to slip in.

"Oh no, please keep playing." He smiles, walking towards an empty chair. He moves it next to his mother, sitting to enjoy the sonata.

"I intend to." After placing a soft kiss on her son's cheek, she continues to play, her fingers sliding gently on the piano keys.

Roman has already watched her many times, always wondering how she can make her movements appear so instinctive and easy, natural as her own breathing. Since he was a kid he's been mesmerized by the calming waves of her compositions, nothing for him saying "home" as much as the melody she used to play after any bad dream he had. The warmth of serenity cradling his heart whenever he listened to his mama, was only enhanced by watching his father join her. Roman never wants to forget how that man's imposing bearing used to grow softer as he stood there to admire her, bedazzled and powerless in front of the unrivaled beauty of her whole being.

Hitting the last note, she brushes against the keys before lifting her hands. "What happened, sweetheart?"

"How do you know?!"

"That's a silly question to ask your mother."

Roman sighs, a glimpse of a smile on his face. "Right."

"Is it about Dean?"

That's when surprise really hits him. "There's no way I can keep anything from you, uh?"

"Not since you were a day old, baby."

Roman casually hits a key, a solitary note leaving the instrument. "I think I messed up, mom."

"How so?"

"We went to that beautiful place you suggested, and I thought everything was going great, but… At a certain point he's telling me that we can't do this anymore, that he has to work, make some money. He asked me to stop looking for him at the club. And I get it, I know I've been selfish, I just- I just wanted to spend with him as much time as I could." Roman admits, laying down once again in the arms of guilt.

His mother gently places her hands on top of his. "Why did you want to spend so much time with him?"

"I liked it. I feel good around him. Really good, mom."

"You should take this chance to sit back and think. You two seemed really sweet, and I know I always tease you that I was right, but the final word is up to you. I mean, there were plenty of people that I thought seemed sweet with you, but then nothing came out of it."

"I don't know if I wanna think about this. I was just- I'm not sure I should ask myself certain questions. I don't know if that would do me any good. Or him."

"That is your decision to make, certainly not mine. Listen, baby, it's been a while since you've been at the casino. Why don't you go there today, clear your mind?"

Roman rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes and reverting to simpler, more innocent times. "Can you play some more, first?"

"Of course,  _bambino mio_. 1"

****

This wasn't a part of his plan. Dean had seen himself spending the night at Roman's place, and instead he's now standing in the kitchen of his apartment above The Rabbit Hole. Drinking coffee, trying to accept the hard decision he made.

"You're here? I thought you'd be with Reigns."

Dean turns his head to look at his flat mate. "Nope."

"Something happened?"

Dean hears the worry in Tyler's voice but he's not inclined to feel flattered by it. "None of your business."

The other man shakes his head. "I was right, wasn't I? I warned you, he changes lovers like his suits."

Dean puts his cup of coffee down a little harder than he should have. "What happened between us is none of your fucking business. How about you mind your own and focus on something you're actually good at, like sucking cock for example."

"Forget I fucking asked, asshole." Tyler snarls, walking away from Dean's sight. "Don't go to the kitchen, drama queen is there growling at everyone." He hears him say, probably to Finn.

In the renewed mantle of silence, Dean's mind cannot find any peace. He wonders if Roman's doing okay and what would've happened if he didn't say shit, if he actually chose to follow his heart instead of looking at his empty pockets. He never had that much fun with any of the people he shared a bed with. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe-

"Fuck. Get your head out of your ass, Ambrose." He whispers to himself.

He's willing to try, but every part of him is viciously caressed by the creeping coldness that the absence of Roman's touch left him with. He can't imagine a near future in which those hands are going to be touching him again, and that is a killer thought. There's no way Roman's going to forgive him for what he has done. The pain in his eyes was an unmistakable sign of how much he hurt him.

****

"Mr. Reigns, I believe that our partnership will give us both the leverage we need to move up the ladder in this state."

Another time, Roman would have pointed out that he already has the whole State of Florida in his pockets. Another time, Roman would have put that big shot back in his place like he did with many others. A time in which he wouldn't get swallowed by how empty his day feels without Dean making some beautiful chaos out of it, probably.

"Roman's already above you, and the fact you think you're at the same level as him is idiotic." Kevin chuckles as he shakes his head. "Either offer something that he may be actually interested in, or get out."

Roman reinforces the statement made in his place, clearing his throat. "I don't know what you've been told, but I'm very selective in choosing who I cooperate with. I don't have much time to grant to fruitless proposals."

Quite annoyed, Kevin looks at his watch, a birthday present from his husband. "Make it no time, sir. Bye."

Panic stricken, the nester darts forward, almost sprawling across the table. "Wait, wait!"

The consigliere can't stifle the laughter in his throat, but on the boss' face there's nothing but a deadpan expression. "Enough."

"Get out or I call security." Kevin adds, wagging his finger into the guy's face.

"Gentlemen, I'm sure we can still-"

"Oh, I get it!" Kevin exclaims, as if he just realized something really important. "You don't understand English! I can say it in French too.  _Au revoir_."

The businessman's forehead is sweaty, but he seems undismayed nonetheless. "Roman, I know that-"

"How dare you." The boss hisses, drawing his gun out. "If you're so desperate it means you need me way more than you cared to admit. See, I don't like liars. As far as I know, your offer may be just a way to save your own ass, nothing more." They're all standing now, as Roman raises the pistol to point right at the man's head. "So, how dare you. Coming here, wasting my time, calling me by the name my mother has given to me."

"Y-you know what? Forget it! I don't need anything. I'm sorry for wasting your time, sir. T-thank you for meeting me, Mr. Reigns. Goodbye." The unfortunate one babbles, carefully slipping away from the menacing barrel to reach the door.

Not even that gives Roman back the thrill. He's always enjoyed terrorizing people, but right now he's not really aware of what he's done until he feels the Glock's foreign body weighing in his palm.

"If he sues because you pulled a gun on him, I'm going to be a very displeased lawyer." Kevin says as he sits back down.

He expects some reaction from Roman, but he gets none. That's all it takes for him to connect the dots. "What is it about? No, wait, don't tell me. I might know." Kevin sighs, rolling his eyes. "Don't ask me for relationship advice, it's a fucking miracle I still have a ring around my finger."

"Yeah, that's because your husband is a very patient man." Roman mumbles, putting the gun away.

"Oh, he speaks! Sami's an angel, not just patient. You look like someone kicked your dog, Roman. It's fucking terrible for business. I mean, it's not like seeing some guy running out this office scared shitless isn't fun, but-"

"I know. This never happened, I feel like I'm losing lucidity. Fuck."

"You've been in an awful mood for several days now. Why don't you just go talk to him?"

"I can't. That's the whole point. He explicitly told me that we should cut it off."

Kevin raises an eyebrow. "Since when you let someone who isn't your mother or myself tell you what to do?"

"It’s not a business matter, Kev. It's personal, I have to respect his decision."

"You gotta find a way to deal with this because it clouds your fucking judgement. Either talk to him or fuck someone else to forget him."

Roman shakes his head, a bitter smile on his face. "You've seen Dean. You've seen the way he carries himself, he's… He's one of a kind. There's no fuck in this world that could make me forget him."

"Eh, I don't get it. He's annoying. What do you see in him?"

"Everything about him is a- He keeps challenging me but… I like it. And he's so different, like… like he's painted in vivid colors. I would stare at his colors all day."

Kevin stares at his friend's face, almost in disbelief. "Roman, are you in love with him?"

"You think I am?"

"You sound like me when I talk about Sami, yeah." Kevin nods slowly.

"I don't know if I can do this." Roman sighs, rubbing his temples. "Besides, it doesn't change shit. He wants to work."

"I work, Sami works. And look what's on my finger, oh no, it's a wedding ring!" He pauses. "Look, it isn't my fucking place to educate you about relationships because I'd rather you be with a cactus than with Ambrose."

"Kevin, your husband doesn't sleep with other men as a job. You think I would ever be okay with that? Well, you know me. I wouldn't, no fucking way."

"Think about it this way, Ambrose doesn't know what else to do. From what I’ve learned and read, he used to fight and whore around in the streets, in his mind he probably can't do anything but that."

"So what you're suggesting is that I should show him some other perspective?"

"Yeah, maybe he can relax a bit, since he worked on the streets for so long. After that he can figure something out."

Kevin always has the ability of talking so much sense, but somehow Roman is not fully convinced. "He said he needs the money. I can't just put cash in his hands."

"You don't have to, you just help him take a break and figure out what to do with his life."

Roman's phone starts ringing, the intense magenta of Sasha's hair brightening the screen. In that picture he took of her, she's holding her hand up in a v sign.

"Take the call, man. I'll be out there if you need something else." Kevin says, patting his friend's shoulder before leaving the office.

The boss mouths a thank you, then picks up his phone. "Hey, Sasha."

"Hey Sasha, he says!"

She definitely sounds irritated.

"What now? It's barely opening hour."

"I love you like a brother, you know that. You gave me full control of the club and you don't usually question my decisions because you are aware of how good I am at doing that. I'm beyond furious now, and if you won't let me fire his ass, I might break a few things."

Roman's heart skips a beat when he understands it’s about Dean. "What happened?"

"Party Crasher. He has been a nightmare in the past few days. He's drinking on the job, leaving clients early, bad mouths everyone and doesn't give a shit 'bout what I say. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I can't stand this anymore. I want to fire him. He can stay at the apartment, I don't care, but I don't want him to work here."

"Jesus, Sasha…" Roman sinks into his armchair, biting his lip.

"Tell me what to do if you don't want me to fire him. Tell me what to do!"

"Let me talk to him."

"Alright, Big Dog. You coming now?"

"No. Fuck, I can't." He groans. "On the phone. Pass him your phone."

She's pondering, Roman understands that by her hesitation. "Okay, give me a few seconds."

Roman hears her moving around her office. "Ambrose, come here! You finish that drink later. Now, Ambrose!"

A few sounds in the background, then- "What?"

As he finally hears the voice he's been missing for days, Roman closes his eyes and instinctively holds his breath.

"Take this." It's Sasha again, firm in her commanding attitude. "Just fucking take this, don't give me that look."

"'Ello?"

"Hey, it's me." Roman breathes again now, aware that Dean probably just listened to his heavy sigh.

"...Ro?"

"Yeah, troublemaker. What are you up to there?"

Roman's tone is mellow, but it's greeted by silence on the other side.

"Dean, please-"

"Miss you." Dean utters, so low that his gravel voice is like a scratch on Roman's heart.

"I miss you too." He says, hopeful.

"He left the office, Rome. I'll tell him though." Sasha says, her voice full of sympathy.

Roman's fist clenches on his lap, sadness taking over any other feeling he had. He needed Dean to hear that from him, but he ran before he could.

"Never mind. He knows. I just wanted him to- Listen, Sasha. He should behave now. Call me again, if he doesn't. Things between us are complicated, and that's probably why he's nervous. It's not his fault, this is on me."

"You're both idiots. I'll call you if this happens again. Thanks, Rome."

****

"Bedroom is over there. Nice place, right? Don't tell anyone they don't treat us good here." Dean points to the hallway with a fake cocky smirk on his face. The client insisted that they stay indoors, and either he was fucking horny or filthy rich to pay for the required extra, didn't matter to Dean. At least he's getting paid.

"I don't care about what your boss does, sugar." The man smiles back, his eyes revealing a lupine, dark appetite. He pulls Dean closer for a kiss, hands groping his ass.

Dean closes his eyes as he embraces the client's advances, but his mind wanders elsewhere, as it did many times before since he started working more at the club. Imagining Roman's touch became a thing he couldn't control anymore, and neither he did want to. It made the unmeaningful sex he was having with all those men slightly more enjoyable, bearable, even if none of them could ever hope to get close to the real thing.

"Come on." Dean grabs the client's hand after he pulls away from the kiss, to show him the way to his bedroom.

Humming flatteries that Dean isn't even listening to, the man follows him.

"How would you like it?" Dean murmurs, arms around the other's neck as they reach the bed. A question he asked so many times before. "Top? Bottom? Any special requests?"

"I wanna fuck your pretty ass, sugar."

"No problem. Show me that condom and lube and I'll spread these legs for you."

"Forget about the rubber, beautiful. I bet you like it raw."

Dean shakes his head, doing his best to not lose his fake enthusiasm. "No rubber, no ass."

"Come on, not even for a little extra? I got cash."

"You can give me that extra cash all you want man, my answer will still be no."

"You think so?" The guy gives him a rotten smirk, stuffing some banknotes into the back of Dean's shorts.

"Yeah. If you don't have a condom, I do." Dean insists, ignoring the money crumpling against the fold of his garment.

"Lighten up, sugar." The man's tone is commanding under the snickering varnish it leaks. Further is where he's determined to go, as he sticks his hands to Dean's face, kissing and biting his clamped lips.

Dean moves his head away from the man's advances. "'m serious. Either we get condom and lube or this ends here."

"I paid in advance for you. This doesn't fucking end here." The client snarls, the grating sound of arrogance putting out any good intention Dean might have had.

"Then go get your money back. I don't do bareback, none of us does. We aren't that kind of place."

"Oh but I think you will, sugar. I paid for that ass, and I'm getting that ass."

"You aren't getting shit without supplies, get off me." Dean says as he pushes the client away from him.

"Fucking whore, how dare you?" The man growls, quick to grab his wrist, knuckles landing hard on Dean's mouth.

Dean tilts his neck, that familiar sting and coppery taste already on his lips. He takes a deep breath before turning to look at the client. "Brother, shouldn't have done that." He punches him back, harder. "Nobody ever fucking touches me unless I want them to, asshole!"

Blindsided, the man shrinks back, collapsing with the blow. He wasn't expecting such a puissant, sudden reaction from a man with such a slender waist. Straightened up, he storms out of the bedroom, in a haze of snobbish fury. "I'll talk to your boss, you whore! I'll have you on the street where you belong. How dare you touch me! I paid, I fucking own you!" He curses, yelling and slamming the door on his way out.

"Whatever. Fucker."

****

"And he told me that he never saw anything like that before. A man like him should know better, since- Roman?" Lisa looks at the aimless expression of her son, who's clearly not listening to her. "Dean went for a walk in the forest." She adds, arms crossed against her chest.

Roman's head snaps up. "Dean? What-"

"Oh, now you're listening to me." She scolds him, more concerned than angry. "Sweetheart, I hate seeing you like this."

He sighs heavily, elbows resting on his thighs, hands just lacking any purpose. "'m sorry, mom. Didn't mean to disrespect you. What were you saying?"

"Forget about that, it's not important. You've been so detached lately, I'm worried about you."

"I just really miss him, mom. And I wanna know how he's doing. Sasha called me the other day and told me he was being troubled. I feel responsible for this, for him."

"Sitting here and torturing yourself won't help you solve this situation with Dean. The only way to know how's he doing is going to the club and checking up on him personally."

"Maybe I should wait. Maybe he needs more space." He shrugs. "I can't pressure him. Anyone but him. I can't. I don't want to."

Lisa pats the tablecloth smooth, pensive. "I wanna tell you something that you heard many times before but I need to tell you again. Your father had a friend that insisted he'd go to the theater with him, because that friend wanted to introduce your father to the beautiful singer. Your father didn't look at the singer though, he looked at the girl who played the piano. That was me." She smiles fondly at the memory, her fingers slightly moving at the sole thought of the notes she played that night. Many, many years ago. "You already know the rest, your father met me backstage and everything went on from there. But what we didn't tell you, and that's because your father was always ashamed of that, is that it took him a few visits to the theater to get the courage to talk to me. I used to find it adorable back then, but after his death…" She closes her eyes for a moment. "After his death, I got angry at him. If he just introduced himself to me sooner, I would've had a few more memories with him. My point is, Roman, you shouldn't waste your time listening to an old woman's story."

"Mom…" A warm, emotional smile brightens Roman's face as he kneels in front of his mother to kiss the back of her hand. "Love you."

"Love you too, sweetheart." She kisses his forehead. "Go talk to him."

Roman gets back on his feet, waves of impatience crashing into his chest. He feels drunk. Drunk on the perspective of belonging to someone, to that man with eyes blue like a dream.

"Wish me good luck." He chuckles, nervously. He wouldn't recognize himself if he looked in the mirror. He doesn't know where the murderous king has placed his deadly crown, or how his hands went from cold and steady to shaky and expecting. And yet, it happened. And yet, he's ready to commend the sacred, untouched intimacy of his heart to another man.

" _Buona fortuna, amore mio_. 2"

With her blessing, Roman parts from his mother. He can't wait for Sami to get there, so he just decides to drive on his own. As he's in the cabin of his BMW, sitting behind the steering wheel in the driveway and waiting for the gates to open themselves, Roman is left alone with his thoughts.

A few months back he had no idea of the wind of change about to blow his way. When Dean bursted in his club uninvited, agitated and demanding protection, the boss felt his power being violated. And yet, inexplicably, he found himself twisting his hands into the breach that man dared to open. Again and again, with wonder and abandon, because it felt good.

Dean has been to him an exception to so many of the Big Dog's rules that he can't even recall them all. Roman watched them slip through his fingers, disbelief being soon replaced by warmth and desire and admiration every time he laid his eyes on Dean. He never found him still. Always moving, always shifting, always so fucking beautiful in all his shapes.

Where anyone else had failed, Dean had succeeded.

With his heart beating fast, Roman rides in the night, cutting the distance between himself and the man who robbed him of his control. He clings to the naive hope of catching him alone, of Dean declining any offer he might have gotten.

Once at the club, Roman steps into Sasha's office as he always used to, without knocking. He's the only one who can.

The young woman looks up from her checkbook. "Rome!" She smiles, getting up on her feet. "I'm glad to see your face, brother."

"I'm here for Dean." He admits as he hugs her.

"I don't know what magic spell you've cast with that call, but he's been behaving." Sasha says, landing a friendly little punch on his shoulder.

"No, I have to see him. Where is he?"

"Oh, he's with a client. I can get him out if you want? The guy paid extra to stay upstairs."

At that, the hand Roman held in his pocket meets the white surface of the wall in a sudden, choleric punch. The blow is thunderous, startling.

The anger in that gesture leaves Sasha no doubt. "So I guess you want me to pull him outta there." She says, concern all over her face. She rarely saw Roman lose his temper so quickly, which made her realise how right she was in thinking that Dean means to him so much more than any other partner has ever meant.

Roman exhales, begging for his mind to stop showing him flashes he doesn't want to see. He can't stand the thought of Dean, his Dean, laying with another. Screaming for another. Coming by another. "Yeah." He hisses, his voice gruff, severe.

"Alright." She picks up the phone. "I'll have someone-"

But before she could even dial, the door to her office bursts open, and they both turn at the intrusion.

"Your damned-" The guy that paid to spend the night with Dean stops in front of a fuming Roman Reigns, words breaking in his throat.

The boss, already worked up, snaps at the unwanted presence. "Who are you to get in here like this?" He roars, a renewed crest of ire sharpening his features. "Apologize to her. And to me. I own this place."

"Roman, this is the client that paid extra for Dean." Sasha explains, as factual as the situation requires. She's wise enough to let Roman know immediately, but doesn't forget to reiterate her own authority to that cockroach. Watching Roman crush him is going to be the highlight of the night. "And how dare you enter my office without knocking?"

"I'm not apologizing for anything! Your whore is fucking crazy, punched me outta nowhere. I want my money back! And I want a free fuck next time I come here, what kind of place are you two running?!"

Roman hears nothing. Everything becomes white noise the moment Dean steps quietly in the office, his lip split.

After the client had left his room, Dean grabbed his clothes and prepared to go to Sasha's office too. He didn't care if he got fired because of this, the asshole deserved that punch. What he didn't expect was for Roman to be there, too.

Seeing him again after the last few weeks' hell, and after that phone call he run from, all Dean wants right now is to hug him. But somehow he manages to keep his face blank as Roman stares at him like he's the only one in the room. Under that gaze, everything inside of Dean is screaming, yanking on his restraints. Turning him down has been a big mistake he just wishes he could fucking erase.

And then, there's this buzzing in Roman's ears, some pathetic inconvenience that just won't go away. Some taunting, petulant excuse spilling out from the mouth of an ordinary brag. Roman's slap is quick, unforgiving, and it lands so beautifully against the client's face that Dean doesn't notice he's grinning until he feels his cut bleeding again.

"That is for hitting my guy." Cold as a frozen blade, Roman's tone is even as sharp. "I should give you another for not apologizing to the manager as I asked you to. And believe me, you don't want to know what I should do to you for not apologizing to me."

The guy's winching in pain, his face red as the color Roman would see spilled on the floor.

"So you're going to ignore your whore hitting paying clients that give you money?!" The client bawls at Sasha more than him, mistakenly convinced she's softer.

"What's the truth, Dean?" The young woman asks, not even looking at the guy she wouldn't mind burying herself. She really is tempted to propose Roman murder.

"I'm telling you the truth, goddamnit!"

"Shut. Up." Roman's growling command is final, his choking hand a silent, effective threat around the guy's throat.

Dean's eyes shift from him to Sasha as he answers. "He wanted to go bareback, I told him no. He didn't like that, gave me this." He points at his split lip. "So I punched him back. Harder." He shrugs, calm as only a sincere person would be.

"He's fucking lying!" The guy coughs, trying to fight Roman's hold. "That the kind of whores you hire?!"

Roman turns to face him, his neck darting in a dangerous motion. "If you ever show yourself here again, I will end you. I don't care who you are, just that you know who I am. I'm keeping your money, for the headache you gave me."

"What? I want my money back! I didn't get what I paid for!"

Roman's laugh is sharp as a razor's edge, his stillness menacing and solemn. "You damaged a person that works for me, came here shouting, lied to my face. You're lucky I'm letting you walk out of this."

"I'm calling security." Sasha says, picking up her phone so the bodyguards can remove the client.

As they enter the room, a satisfied evil smile blossoms on her face. "Please show him the door." She points at the arguing client who keeps shouting as Roman finally releases him, and he gets unceremoniously kicked out.

A softer, hopeful sound breaks the tension. "Ro…"

Roman's eyes fall on Dean again, and just the tip of his own name being on his mouth is enough to make his heart race so fast it hurts.

Dean's quick to pull Roman against him for a hug, burying his face into his neck, breathing in the scent he longed for. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." Roman's breathless, by speaking those words only. "I'm sorry he put his hands on you. I am so fucking sorry and angry, I wanted to kill him."

"It's not your fault. Fuck, I wouldn't have blamed you if you did kill him, he was an ass and deserved it."

"I say, you two go talk in your office. Suddenly I feel like a bad third wheel." Sasha sighs, visibly relieved.

Roman vaguely nods, absorbed in Dean's presence. The exact perception of how wrong it's been lacking him by his side strikes him now harder than ever.

They leave, making their way through the empty venue to walk upstairs. The quiet of closing hour is all they need to carve out some time for themselves.

Roman doesn't get to turn the light on, Dean's body pressing against his own in the dark. The urgency between them is consuming, after being apart for so long. It only takes a jolt, the animalistic energy of deep craving, and Dean's pinned against the wall. They both struggle for breath, lips clashing and raiding each other, and there's blood but they don't care. It's them, just them.

Clothes get ripped off, thrown away, and Dean's moaning impatiently as Roman steps back toward his desk.

"I'm here, babe. Got you." He growls, colliding with him again. Teeth tearing up the wrapper, Roman rolls the condom on his length. Dean's hand reaches for it, helping and eager.

"You got no idea how hot you look right now." Dean bites his already tortured, blood smeared lips. Nobody can turn him on quicker than Roman does. Nobody has ever numbed his pain so good.

A gentle forehead bump and Roman's breathing against the avid frame of his mouth. "Turn around."

Dean gives Roman a kiss before doing as instructed. Head tilted back, he lets Roman's slick fingers coddle his heated flesh. He missed that, missed the way that man enters him slightly, pampering his neck with kisses and promises as he just melts, and  _wants_ , wants so much.

"Fuck me." He growls, rocking against his fingers impatiently.

The other man pushes his back against the wall again, thick lust pooling in his eyes. He lifts Dean's leg, getting the perfect angle to slide his lubed cock inside him. And he curses, as Dean's channel takes him in with such beautiful greed.

"When I was with clients, I thought about this, about you." Dean pants, fingers entangled in Roman's hair. "Only way I could stand it. Was hard though, 'cause nobody came even close to you."

With a growling, husky grunt, Roman lifts Dean's weight completely, slamming hard into him. All his senses writhing in a possessive, feverish agony.

"Shit, Roman!" Dean gasps, loud, legs tightening around the other's waist, hands clawing at his back.

"I love you." Roman prays onto his neck. "I love you."

Dean's shock comes out in a louder moan. "Fuck." There's no way he heard him right. "Wha-?"

Roman's voice is quavering, his mouth hot against the other's cheek. "You don't have to say it back."

"Again. Please."

There's no hesitation, no fear, no holding it back. "I love you, Dean. I love you."

Dean kisses him, heart swelling with intoxicating bliss. If this moment is a dream, he wants to live in it forever. He wants his own moans to never cease, to never stop lashing against the reassuring, kind hotness of the other's tongue.

"Fuck, Roman." Dean moans again after they break the kiss. He's pretty sure that if anyone's close enough, they could hear him loudly enjoying what Roman's doing to him. And that's always a problem when he's having sex with him. Best problem he's ever had. "Harder!"

Dean's shoulders get knocked against the wall, Roman's drive growing vicious as he pounds his tight ass rougher. To him, Dean's weight disappeared, wiped out by the ardent, twitchy need the man takes it, takes it all with. Roman being hopelessly on the edge, a few more thrusts fling him into a spiral of pleasure, and the phantom resemblance of a roar ignites his throat, smothered by the force he puts into biting Dean's neck.

As he stands there, trembling, still holding the other man, Roman anxiously tries to catch his own breath. "Fuck." He curses, spent, panting against Dean's unclosed mouth.

Roman carefully lowers him until his feet touch the ground again, and catches his hand darting in search of release.

"No." The Big Dog commands, husky, chasing those fingers away from his spoils. "Mine."

Seeing him drop to his knees makes Dean's cock pulse in expectation. He undoes what remains of Roman's messy ponytail, holding on to his hair as tears of pleasure gather at the corner of his closed eyes.

The head of Dean's dick is heavy on Roman's tongue as he sucks on it. The boss let all the orders – banners of his authority – spill out of his lips and fall on the floor coated in spit and thirst and submittal. There's only room left for that perfect shaft seemingly made to fill his mouth. And he doesn't flinch, doesn't refuse, doesn't retreat, when Dean's pushing himself deeper and faster. Roman grasps for the other's hips, scalp sore under Dean's erratic tugs, and when he looks up he sees him smiling.

"Fuck." He groans. "Your fucking mouth, on your fucking knees. Jesus."

Roman only registers that in the back of his mind, too keen on his task to focus on anything else. Kneeling and serving has come to him on instinct, a so long unanswered call boiling in his blood. Freeing himself of his name's weight has never been so relieving, so easy as it is with Dean.

He does get his grip back on the man's glistening cock, though, eager to set a pace that allows him to truly taste his naked skin.

"Ro! Fuck, I'm-"

Roman pulls back just enough as his sense suggests – Dean's cock still in his hand – to greet the warm, thick cum pouring on his tongue. He looks right into Dean's eyes from below, as he collects what dropped above his lip too and sucks it off his finger to swallow it all.

Dean bends over and grabs Roman's face, tasting himself on his lips. "You're so fucking hot."

As they both collapse to the floor, Dean finds shelter in Roman's arms, back pressed against his chest. He can feel the man's heart still pounding, echoing his own. That makes Dean close his eyes, relaxing as Roman's warm fingers caress his bare, delighted body.

"We need to talk, don't we?" He sighs, looking at the intricate ink maze spreading over the other's forearm.

"Come home with me."

Roman's whisper is sweet and tempting, but Dean shakes his head slowly. "You know I can't."

"No, Dean. What I'm asking you is to quit this job." Roman bestows countless kisses along the curve of the other's neck, lips resting a little longer on his shoulder. "Sleep with me every night, in our bed, our home."

Dean gingerly turns around to look at him. "We talked about this, right? I can't take money from you and I can't look for a job outside, we both know it's too dangerous for me. Fighting and fucking, that's what I'm good at."

A veil of fear darkens the boss' eyes, his limbs shaking at the thought of giving up on the only man he fell in love with. "You can't ask me to stand aside as other men touch you." His voice brittle, Roman has never felt so powerless, never so subjugated by another's will. "Fuck, Dean, I can't do that. I love you, and I want to wake up next to you every day. We can make this work, I promise we will. Please, say yes."

Dean's fingertips trace Roman's tense features with a softness he might have dedicated to him alone in all his life. "You're not the one spreading your legs, Ro. Think I wanna keep doing this, being a whore? You do what you gotta do to survive." Dean pauses. "I can't. Even if we do make it work, I'll go nuts with nothing to do."

"Babe, you are capable of so much more, and I want you to realize that. You're not on your own anymore, don't you see? I can help you, any way you need. We will get you another job, just- Please. If you feel something for me, please. I will have the urge to kill anyone else who dares touching you. It's too late for me."

Dean chuckles, the fondness he feels for that man unmistakable. "You almost killed that asshole today anyway, man." He clears his throat, forehead resting against the other's as he whispers one more question. One whose answer he already knows but needs to hear anyway. "If I won't change my mind, if my final word is no. What will happen to me?"

Roman's arms close around Dean in a tender, urgent embrace. "Nothing will ever happen to you. I promised I would protect you, and my vow won't be broken even if my heart will."

Nodding calmly, Dean lets his own lips hover over Roman's soft-spoken mouth. "Yes." He breathes, heart thumping so hard that his chest aches. "But if I go crazy while I figure shit out, it's on you, man."

Roman blinks, caught in a daze that just painted a big, smitten smile on his face. "Yes?"

"Yeah, Ro." He repeats, sealing his decision with a kiss that Roman eagerly plunges into.

"Do you mind if we sleep here tonight, so I can pack shit tomorrow? And, uh… Is there any protocol to follow when you're a mob boss' darling?" Dean smirks, curling Roman's hair around his finger.

"Just one. Always eat what my mom puts on the table."

"Noted."

****

Opening his eyes on a new morning and realizing that the previous night hasn't been just a dream, nothing in the world could faze Roman's good mood. He wakes up next to Dean's still sleeping figure, and panders to the need of kissing his back. The space between Dean's shoulder blades – where he's the most vulnerable and exposed – becomes Roman's favorite to cast his kisses away.

"Where you goin'?" Dean's gruff voice questions, still tired.

"Just taking a shower, baby. Rest some more, I'm not going anywhere. How you feeling?"

Dean lets out a sleepy moan. "You fucked me into next week, several times. How you think 'm feelin'?

Giggling, Roman brushes Dean's jaw with his lips, stopping at the corner of his mouth to place a kiss there. "I'll be right back, babe. God, you're beautiful."

He crosses the empty hallway to reach the bathroom, and gladly commits himself to a hot, nourishing shower.

With the back of his hand, Roman cleans up the fogged mirror. His reflexion shows the man a relaxed, content image of himself. After quickly drying his hair with a towel, he lets it fall in damp waves on his shoulders. Unable to put his suit back on for obvious reasons, Roman opts for staying shirtless. Rolling a bath sheet around his waist, he steps out of there.

A curious trail of chatter, though, leads him toward the kitchen instead of the bedroom.

"I gotta tell you, I have no idea what kind of client Dean had last night but he's either a great faker or the guy knows what he's doing."

"He wasn't with a client." He feels the urge to clarify, his brooding frame coming to light. Nobody can make Dean scream as he does, he's willing to bet.

The two men turn around to see Florida's most dangerous criminal – who also happens to be their boss – walk half naked in front of them at breakfast time. No big deal.

"Holy- sir." Tyler's shocked curse trails off in a clumsy way.

"He didn' mean it like tha'." Finn's clearly trying to dodge an unpleasant outcome for the awkward situation, which amuses Roman to a great extent.

"Didn't mean it like what?" He insists, his words twisting and digging into their increasing sense of alarm.

The two of them nervously look at each other, desperate to find something to say to their boss. "It was a compliment, if you think about it." Tyler tries.

"God. There's no good way for us to save this." Finn groans, scratching his beard.

Roman remains firm in his new fun game, his attitude a shining example of acting. "So you don't actually think your friend was faking, hm?"

"No, absolutely! We-"

"Stop scaring the shit outta them." Dean rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, his presence a deus ex machina that both Tyler and Finn have never been so glad to see. "He's harmless after sex, guys."

His masquerade being spoiled, Roman can't do much more than cracking a smile at his employees. "Lighten up, I'm not going to off you. Yet."

"He's in a really good mood." Dean says, giving Roman a peck on the lips.

****

"You look like you've been through a war." As the bulky man sitting behind his desk laughs, he closes his computer. "I assume you have some news for me?"

"That bastard did it. And yes, I do."

"We knew he might hit you, the money I gave you should make it a little less painful."

"Your generosity is much appreciated, Helmsley. I wouldn't have minded also tapping that bitch's ass, though. Too bad, it seems like the Big Dog has been taking good care of that. You were right about them. He cares about the whore, he even threatened to kill me."

"So that's why he didn't want to give me Ambrose. Reigns is going to try to get his revenge, but now I have leverage over him."

Hunter gets up, typical cold corporate smile curving his lips. "Thank you, sir. You were so helpful to me. I'll give you the rest of your money right now."

He opens the drawer with his left hand. As the guy looks away, Hunter quickly pulls a gun with his right and shoots him straight between the eyes. The body falls down, landing on the white floor with a heavy thud. Death has its weight.

A blank expression on his face, Hunter puts his gun away, picks up the phone and dials. "Send someone to clean up this fucking mess in my office."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Bambino mio: Italian for “my child”  
> 2\. Buona fortuna, amore mio: Italian for “Good luck, love”
> 
>  
> 
> ____________________________________________________________________________________________  
> So, here we are!  
> As you can see, things are getting darker. All I can say is ‘buckle up’ ;)  
> I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this chapter as much as Puppy and I enjoyed writing it. Emotionally speaking, this is one of the most important bits of the whole story.
> 
> -Phoenixstein


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